Reunion
by Wyldehart
Summary: This is part one. Did Elissa Cousland know a certain young Templar back in her youth and could she be made to remember him? Alistair has to know for sure and hears the tale the night of their first time together.
1. Chapter 1

**Reunion**

Part One

**Note: This story contains graphic sensual elements and is, in fact, a glorified Harliquin Romance novel with better dialogue, better sex and more kissing than you ever wanted to read about. So if you don't want to know about Alistair's love of tactile affection or Elissa's recent discovery of the "human control rod" then stop now! And if you're under 18 and your parents are prudes, you need to stop reading as well. I've corrupted enough people already. Oh and there's some smooching between teenagers, 16 and 17. It's not kiddie porn, it's simple coming of age self-discovery and fits in a medieval-based period. To those of you courageous enough to read on, I say welcome aboard! Bring your waders though… It gets pretty deep Oh, and no spoilers for those playing the game. **

**Prologue**

They had been on the roads of the land for some three months since leaving Ostragar, a bloody trail of dead Darkspawn left in their wake. It was remarkable what kind of damage two (very green) Gray Wardens, an Apostate mage, an independent Golem, a disgraced Qunari, a reformed (reforming?) assassin and a circle mage could do. Alistair was greatly impressed by their progress but unhappy with its snail's pace. Things had taken too much time and Arl Eamon was still sick in spite of their efforts. They now chased a fantasy cure that may or may not exist. If Elissa hadn't believed it would help and if it were not the only possible cure, he would have voted to pursue the treaties instead. Those were tangible. Those were real. Andraste's Ashes were a legend.

And if he wasn't under enough stress as it was, about four weeks earlier, he had tentatively entered into a romantic relationship with Elissa Cousland, formerly of Highever. From the moment he met her, he was attracted. Sure, she was beautiful, what with her striking blue-green eyes and vivid dark red hair, but there was more to it than that. For one, she was confident but not conceited and she never put on airs. She could have if she wanted and he wouldn't have thought any less of her. She was, after all, a Teryn's daughter and a noble by birth. Becoming a Gray Warden only changes one's future, not ones past. The other attractive thing about her was her skill. She was good! She was fast, nimble and wielded her blades like an extension of her body. She'd even begun to train with Zevran as he taught her his secrets. Alistair liked having her by his side in a fight and knew he would never fall if she was there, beside him.

And then there was the way she treated him. She liked his company, appreciated his jokes and never made him feel awkward, unless they were alone together and he was struggling to maintain his composure. Elissa understood him, and she seemed to always know how to put him at ease. Telling her about his possible connection to Ferelden's throne some six weeks earlier, for example, had been hard for him but after the initial shock, she treated him just as he had hoped: the same as always. By allowing him to meet his sister and then later finding his Mother's locket, she had only added to his respect and growing affection for her. Those little gestures, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, were important to him and meant that she really did genuinely care about him. They meant more than she could imagine. Finally, he could laugh a little and maybe surrender himself to some of his growing feelings toward her.

Then the flirting began. She flirted with him almost daily, something that was unexpectedly awkward for him. It was mostly little things like touching his hand a lot, leaning in close enough to smell her hair or the compliments and random hugs she gave. Intermixed were things that warmed his blood like the night she emerged from her tent in the little, sleeveless silk night-dress she slept in and curled up against him to chat. That the night-dress was almost sheer had left his palms wet and his heart racing. She then had made things worse when she lay across his lap and smiled up at him, arms stretched out behind her. The dress left little to the imagination and the way she was positioned had left her thighs completely bare. Elissa also had begun touching his leg close to his groin and enjoyed the nervous glances he cast her full cleavage when she leaned over him. She wickedly created a game of Tug-O-War, which took place between her eyes and her breasts_. She's a lady. Don't look, Alistair! Don't look! Damn! Eyes! Maker, her breasts are perfect… EYES, Alistair! EYES! She's evil…_ It had been flattering, though, and he liked the inflation it gave to his ego. And of course he enjoyed the attention. Flirting back was hard for him, however, because of his lack of experience with women and he wasn't sure how far was too far or where flirting ended and being crass began. So, like he did with most things, he followed her lead and dropped clues that he wanted more than friendship. It had worked out perfectly.

The moment of their first kiss had been both a release and a revelation. It felt good to take her into his arms and sweep her into a long, powerful kiss that left them both breathless. Until that moment, she had just been another Gray Warden who happened to be a friend. Now, they were so much more. Battles meant more now when they were ended with a celebratory caress of lips and long nights were so much more interesting. That kiss revealed the depth of his feelings for her and their intensity amazed him. Did she feel the same way, he wondered.

All of that kissing (he kissed her every chance he got) and playful flirting (he was learning!) was actually a lot of fun. In between killing bandits, rescuing Connor's soul, murdering Darkspawn and wiping out a tower-full of blood-mages, the love-play had become a welcome respite. The effect of course, was an unexpected build-up of tension both emotional and physical. Every time he kissed her, he wanted to touch her in ways that could get him slapped. He was against getting slapped and avoided it carefully. So, how does one touch a woman without opening himself up to unnecessary violence? Then again, maybe she wanted to be touched and he was just fooling himself into thinking she would think less of him for actually doing it.

Whatever he did, he had to do it soon. His body was like a bowstring and if he waited much longer for release, he would explode. The thought of exploding was even less attractive than that of getting slapped. So, after a great deal of rehearsing, he finally approached her and almost bungled his whole speech. Her response was better than he could have hoped. In fact, she appeared to be enduring a lot of the same tension he was and welcomed the opportunity to show him how she felt. But as armor fell away and passions were shared, Alistair's mind flooded with questions. There was a familiarity about her that he couldn't shake. He'd felt it before, shortly after meeting her, but dismissed it as the familiarity all Wardens feel toward one another.

This was different. Holding her in his arms, their naked bodies pressed together in a sonnet of lust and love, he couldn't help feeling that they were meeting all over again. Since Alistair did not believe in reincarnation, if they had met, it had to have been long ago, in another time and place. Fortunately, every time his mind wandered, Elissa knew just what it took to bring it back.

Her body, slick with sweat and glistening gold in the firelight reminded him of a dress he once saw on a woman many years ago. It had been layers of gold fabric, gathered in a tight, sparkling bodice and skirts that flowed out like molten metal. In contrast, Elissa wore only the firelight and a teasing smile as she beckoned to him, the smooth muscles of her arms and torso gleaming hotly in a more risqué version of that gown. Her breasts swayed seductively with the movement of her hips in a private dance of seduction that teased his body, causing it to respond with a vengeance. He perspired, hard muscles shimmering with golden drops of moisture. He licked his lips. Everything else was forgotten and his arms enfolded her, her lips parted and her mouth opened to let him in.

Gently, he laid her back against her bedroll. The moment of their union had been difficult for him, at first, because he did not want to hurt her. Elissa would not be denied this moment and forced him onto his back, ending both his and her virginities with a quick and passionate thrust of her hips. There was moment of discomfort on her face and a small bit of blood but his concern was met with a hungry kiss. At last, inside her, he gasped with his back arched. _Oh. Wow_.

Once that was done, she happily allowed him to take control again. Whoever knew that sex could be so difficult, what with the way men spoke so casually of it? He knew he liked it though. Having done it, he now understood why men craved it. It had taken him a long time but the wait was worth it.

He teased her and pleasured her, delighting in new ways to spark her desire and inspire her passion. She gave him the most glorious experience he'd ever felt in return. How lucky had he been to find this amazing woman, much less to end up in her arms? He was glad he hadn't allowed his fears to waylay this chance. He was at last now able to touch her however he pleased and he gloried in it. This new kind of intimate touching was like the opening of a flower to the sun for the first time. Lingering in her arms, her hands and lips caressing his, lean, muscular body anywhere, everywhere they could, Alistair found completeness and a sense of joy. Suddenly, he laughed and proclaimed loudly his love for her before playfully, joyously rolling her back on top of him for a less fevered, less awkward second session. She laughed with him and eagerly accepted his proposition.

**A Curious Locket**

A couple of hours later, as they curled up against one another in companionable comfort, the young Templar decided to address the silver locket he'd seen swaying hypnotically against her slick skin. He felt he knew that locket, as if he'd seen it before; as if he'd seen it on her before. He liked the way it looked on her. Alistair asked her softly, "Where did you get that locket?"

She rolled over, granting him a striking view of her breasts. He reminded himself that he had rights to them now. He liked the idea of being able to touch them whenever he wanted and not get injured. The thought made him smile. Oh the possibilities! Well, maybe not during a fight. Or dinner… or any place really public. He experimented by innocently fondling her. She sighed, her body responding to his experimental caress. _Oh my!_ He made gooseflesh appear on her skin. Though she appeared to like it, he prepared to duck anyway. Women could be dangerous.

"This?" She stroked the shiny silver locket and held it up to him. He touched it lightly. He knew how to unlock the intricate mechanism that sealed its contents away but he was afraid to do so for fear of what it might reveal. He wasn't ready for the answer. Not just yet. He was sure he would be right though. The thought made him smile.

"Mmhm. Enlighten me, my love?"

She was startled and a bit ashamed. Elissa hadn't thought of the boy in, oh, three years? It was seven years ago that they first met but time and space had dimmed her thoughts of him. By asking, Alistair had inadvertently reawakened those old memories and the flood of emotion they brought with them. "I was sixteen. A-a boy gave it to me. He was young and kind and training with the Templars. I… Never saw his face very clearly and I never knew his name but he was my first kiss, my first crush and my first heartbreak, all in the course of a night."

Alistair felt an overwhelming flood of joy well up from someplace deep inside as what she said joined his own memories of a night he'd shared with a girl around the same time, a long time ago. So that was it. Could it be true, if his suspicions were to be believed? Trying not to sound too eager, he asked, "So, I may have some competition out there! Some handsome man, now grown, may try to whisk you away from me, hmmm?"

She giggled and curled her arms around his neck. He deliberately cupped her breasts with his hands and squeezed. Nope, she still seemed to like it and clearly wasn't going to hit him. He was almost disappointed. She was also straddling him now, a very distracting position to be sure. He kept his eyes locked on hers. "No, no. Doubtless he's taken his oath and become a dedicated warrior of purity by now. He was training to be a Templar though he never seemed happy about it. We… met at a Landsmeet, during Feastday. There was a great dance, Cailan's first major lands-wide celebration as king.

"All the ladies and lords were dancing and I was being paraded about like a festival horse. My parents wanted to show me off to all the nobles' sons in the hopes that I would marry one of them. I just wanted to dance and have fun. It… Wasn't what I expected. Alistair, are you certain you want to know all this? It's not that I don't want to tell you but, don't we have better things to do? Like go for a third round? You've been fixating pretty hard on my breasts, after all. Maybe you would like to, oh, I don't know… Really show them how you feel?"

He flushed a dark crimson as what she suggested began to sink in. _You can do that?_ _You can really- with __**your**__-to __**her**__-?_ _Oh. __**Wow**__!_ He was sorely tempted by her offer but shook his head. "Nope. Definitely later though. I **really** want to try that later! For now, I just want all the gritty details about your first love. I want to know all about him."

"You're plainly a glutton for punishment. Or you are immeasurably curious. Fine. Fine… If you must hear it, as I said, it began on Feastday. The sun was setting and the Landsmeet had concluded. There was the dance I mentioned after the King's Feast and I was just another young woman with long, golden-red hair and a dress of molten gold that my mother found somewhere and spent a stupid amount of money on. I felt like a Feastday event award in all that golden fabric. I think it was strapless with gathers in the front and held up by the sheer tightness of the bodice's design…"

"And your ample bosom…" Alistair suggested with a wink. He was really starting to appreciate that bosom, especially now since he could admire it without getting hit. She swatted him for the comment, thought. With an irritated sigh, she relaxed her back against his chest, her body following his and her head cradled in the space between his chin and shoulder. He put his arm around her and settled in to listen. With sly look, she placed his free hand on her breast in an open invitation. "Excuse me? This is **my** story. Besides, how would **you** know?" He kept his lips sealed and waved her on before lowering his hand back to the good parts…

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

**Elissa's Tale Begins**

Eyeing him suspiciously, she continued her tale. He listened intently and marveled at how well she recalled even minute details like the dim light cast by the lanterns, torches and candles, the mood of the day, the joy that she felt as a young girl not yet experienced enough in life to be wary. She even described the setting sun and the King's delight with the success of his greatest Feastday event yet. It was part for pleasure, part for work and with work concluded, the fun and feasting had begun.

Dressed in a gown of strapless, spun gold, Elissa had been a glittering vision of beauty to all the young men gathering about the floor. She outshone even the prettiest of her companions as they joined together for a happy group dance. Her thick, red-gold hair pulled away from her heart-shaped face, Elissa laughed easily and snickered about this or that bann's son or Arl's heir. They even giggled about the King, even though he was spoken for by his queen. They all had their favorites but Elissa hadn't yet found a boy she approved of. She preferred sparring with them using swords than picking them out by their looks for dancing. The king was handsome and of course, there was Ser Gilmore but he was just a friend.

Then there was the sad templar trainee by the wall. Why would she notice him, of all people? He was standing alone, looking awkward in a Templar trainee's ceremonial armor and shifting from foot to foot. His helmet covered half his face but what she could see of his strong jaw and sensitive lips, he must have been handsome indeed. As her friends were led away on the arms of handsome men, she declined many offers and tried to wave to the lonely knight. _'At least he won't abuse me… They're taught manners!'_ He appeared to think she was waving to someone else as he looked around him and shyly kept from meeting her teal eyes. Eventually, a dance partner she could not refuse swept her up in a lively three-step.

"Fergus! Hah hah hah! Where is your bride?" she laughed as he whirled his lovely sister about.

"Nursing her swollen feet, I am afraid. The babe weighs heavily within her these days. I hope we are able to return to Highever without her giving birth on the road. I tried to keep her from coming but you know my wife. She** is** Antivan, after all!"

Elissa hugged him and laughed. "Thus the reason mother loves her so. They are cut from the same fabric." Fergus kissed her forehead and said, "As are you, sister dear. Where are your suitors? Am I the only man with eyes for the loveliest lass of the Feastday ball? What about Ser Gilmore? You do get along so well and his family is of good stock. Father and Mother wouldn't be offended, you know."

She laughed and allowed him to whirl her about. "Planning my future again, Brother Dear? Courting Ser Gilmore would be akin to courting you, Fergus! We are friends and nothing more and should he wish to **be** more, I would have to dash his hopes. 'Tis not a thing I wish to do. **OH**!" A man laughed and gently pried her from Fergus' arms.

"My cut, my lord! You cannot keep your stunning sibling to yourself the whole night. My lady?" She laughed at the sight of Bann Everhorn's eldest son. They were friends and dancing the lively tune with him was a welcome interruption to Fergus' questions.

Thus began what should have been a fun and exciting night. It surely started good but not all good things are permanent, she would later find. She was whirled about from lad to lad and into the arms of many she didn't know. Even Ser Gilmore took her hands and spun her in a lively rendition of the Patise. She did her best to keep up and even succeeded, much to her surprise. The musicians tirelessly played song after song and the dancers whirled around her in a maelstrom of writhing bodies. She was hot and bathed in a fine sheen of sweat but she was having the time of her life.

**Dancing the Remigold**

Elissa got something to drink and a bite from a servant's tray before debating a return to the floor. Someone had requested the Remigold, an old dance with complex steps that wove an intricate tale of love, rejection, reconciliation and ultimately a happy ending. Without a good partner, it would be impossible to dance. She caught her parent's eyes and smiled. Now there was a pair who could dance the Remigold right and had taught the dance to her. The only other man she knew who could trace the difficult steps with some grace would have to be Ser Gilmore but he was on the arm of a pretty, golden-haired waif with huge eyes. There had to be someone!

As she turned to find her eventual partner, she heard someone clear his throat behind her. "My Lady? I was hoping to catch you before you chose someone else. Are you in the market for someone to help you make everyone else on the floor look like amateurs? Because I may be just what you ordered! I am at your service."

She smiled thankfully but tried not to seem too eager to accept his request as she turned to face him. Sheathed in his ceremonial Templar armor from head to foot, she realized it was "her" knight from the sidelines. He was not wearing his gauntlets, she noted, as he took her hand and led her to a strategic spot on the smooth dance-floor. "**You** can dance this, Ser?" she chuckled almost accusingly.

The knight laughed and bowed before her. "I **OWN** this dance, my lady, and you have been fascinating to watch. You have the grace and skill of a performer! Perhaps you are a bard?" He chuckled and took her hand, raising her fingers to her lips as he bowed again. "If I may be so bold as to ask, may I borrow you for this dance?"

She laughed and bowed to him in return. The music began, quick and playful with hauntingly beautiful notes. The cue to begin was coming and she placed herself carefully before him. Let's see if he knows how to start it properly. "You may ask but if you are less than stellar, I may have to abandon you for a better partner!" His reply was to place his left hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder and then he spun her away from him in the opening steps of the dance. She squealed with delight and joined him in the complicated beginning.

She discovered with a thrill that he did not lie. He was an excellent dancer. His steps were true and at times, creatively rearranged. It was a struggle to match him move for move but somehow, she managed. He favored steps that accurately depicted the story being told and embellished them with glittering finesse. "You're not bad for someone sheathed head to foot in metal!" she giggled.

He whirled her about, allowing her to display her heavy, layered skirts to their fullest. "You think I'm good now, wait till you see me dance without my armor!"

She grinned up at him playfully. "I intend to!"

Within the very light, flimsy ceremonial helm, the boy blushed and cleared his throat. "Change-up coming soon. Be ready."

"Hm! I am always ready."

"Of that I have no doubt, my lady."

After a moment of following his complicated lead, she found herself in his thrall, completing him beautifully, no matter how much he embellished or dramatized a movement. She even impressed herself for her own ability to adapt. "You're doing **extremely** well, my lady!" he complimented as they danced side-by-side in a complex line dance where they held both hands. She giggled and allowed him to lead her into a thrust and pull, which drew her close to him. She looked up into his shadowed eyes and wondered aloud why he was wearing his helmet. He laughed and held her hand up as they turned twice around then reversed and switched hands with a thunderous clap. This would be the courtship part of it. The steps were difficult and seemed confused to allow for the awkwardness of the protagonists' first meeting and the complicated nature of their blossoming romance. It essentially set the stage.

Finally, he could reply. "Well, my dear, it affords me a bit of anonymity. Right now, the commander; you see him over there?" She looked in the direction he indicated and nodded up at him. He started to speak again but had to change direction in the difficult dance. "The commander only knows that **one** of his Templar trainees has absconded with the most eligible lady on the floor and is now making all the noblemen look **very** bad. He will, of course, ask me if **I **was the nefarious kidnapper but I will deny everything, as will everyone **else** he asks. There will be a lecture about the evils of dancing with girls and how we trainees are only one lightning strike away from earning the Maker's ire. Oh, the other trainees will hate me because they will know it's me but there will be no solid proof and after that we will all get back to our regular daily flagellation and everything will be back to normal again. But not until **after** I have danced the Remigold with the most skilled lady on the floor.

"By the way, I am curious. Do you use a sword? Have you had any weapons training?" he asked with a smile as once again, he drew her near.

She blushed and nodded. "I've begun training with dual swords. I'm quite good, I've been told."

He nodded, holding her out from him as his feet clove the air in a series of steps she found hard to follow but managed to approximate if not duplicate. He seemed impressed. "This dance is a test of dexterity. Warriors do best at it because, in its core element, it is a fight. The 'combatants' are a man and woman sparring in the arena of love and the dance represents that 'fight'."

She was impressed with his knowledge of the dance's history. Not even she truly understood it. It spoke volumes about the depth of his education. "Do you mind that I don't keep to more lady-like pursuits?" she asked him breathlessly.

He laughed loudly and shoved her into the arms of another dancer. She did not know the sandy-haired fellow but he leered appropriately at her as he caught her. The move looked rough but she followed his lead and acted out the emotion of the 'scene' brilliantly. Rage and hurt crossed her face melodramatically and her Templar looked darkly distant and smug in return. The woman held in his arms seemed confused by the Knight's confusing dance steps. She even tried to correct him. He patently ignored her and winked at Elissa instead. Fortunately, Elissa's partner seemed to know what he was doing, though he used less polish than the armored boy she'd chosen.

Though they now had other partners, their eyes remained locked and it was clear with whom they danced. She soon realized that they had attracted a LOT of attention and the floor had cleared so that all could see the skilled performance taking place. Even the king was watching with his wife, clapping his hands and cheering them on. Her parents were dumb-struck.

The music slowed as "betrayal" led to understanding and apology. The music became a sweet, sad ballad that whispered of need and hope and forgiveness. She feigned reluctance and pushed her partner back into his lady's arms and danced solo for a moment before rejoining her original partner. Elissa leaned back in the Knight's arms with a hand on his chest, as if pushing him away while maintaining contact. He supported her back expertly so that as she dipped back, she did not feel in danger of falling. She, the protagonist, was not giving in but she would no longer fight her feelings.

He reached out and arched his hand up, slapping hers as they met once more. The music quickened, became seductive. They were now dancing an elegant, sensual part of the dance in a series of movements designed to simulate sexual reconciliation. At last, he replied to her. "You, my dear, are a wish come true. A beautiful woman who dances the Remi perfectly and you can hold your own in a fight. If I could, I would throw away my path as a templar in a heartbeat. If only I could…"

"Oh! My favorite part of the dance!" she exclaimed, as if she hadn't heard the wistfulness in his voice. She had. It pained her to know how trapped he must feel.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. We've come to the part where you get to take the lead. Oh, very well! Are you ready?" he said with mock resignation. She beamed before she took his hands and the lead with grace and strength. This part of the dance was designed for a woman to take charge and it was clear, as Elissa looked around at the other dancers, that most did not know this. Though they simulated the moves, most of the men were clearly in control.

She pushed the knight away and he utilized intricate steps that suggested confusion, force and loss of balance. But then, at the music's moving finale, he rushed at her and slid to the floor, his momentum pushing his bent knees under her skirts and his arm reached up behind her. She "fell" into his embrace, her sparkling golden fall of skirts flared out around them in a golden pool. He leaned over her, smiling. "This is where I am supposed to kiss you in triumph, having won your heart back. But… I think I shall keep it chaste," he whispered. He kissed her cheek and helped her to her feet. All around, there was applause.

She helped him up and he bowed deeply to her. "It was a pleasure. My thanks, my lady. I am most impressed indeed. Farewell, then! Maybe we'll dance again later tonight."

"I was happy to...! But what is your name? Ser? Ser!" He was already gone, disappearing into the throng of bodies that once again pressed around her. Men appeared from all sides to dance with her and their abandoned women glared jealously at her. In a repeat of the night's earlier events, she was once again passed from man to man, her mind not on them but on a handsome boy wearing ceremonial armor and who danced with a grace she had never experienced.

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Escaping the Cage**

Time wore on. Eventually, the press of bodies became too much. Elissa couldn't breathe. When she tried politeness and politeness failed, she tried barking orders. The men ignored her and treated her with the same deference they would offer a whore. Albeit a very richly gowned whore. She tried to leave but hands grabbed at her shoulders, her skirts, her waist and even one slimy hand groped her breasts. She slapped him and kept moving. Soon, she fell into the arms of a tall, middle-aged man. He was an Arl she did not know. He held her roughly, possessively in a manner she did not approve of. Her Teal eyes flashed dangerously and had she been capable of it, she'd have blasted him with a fireball. "Unhand me! I am a Teryn's daughter and you will pay dearly for this affront!" she demanded imperiously.

"I am in the market for a younger wife, my dear. My wife is a bit long in the tooth and has granted me only daughters. Eight of them, to be exact. A younger wife might be the cure for my lack of sons. You don't need to accept. All I have to do is speak to your father and you will be mine." He was gross and smelled strongly of alcohol. He was also fat and hairy, not to her liking at all. Bryce Cousland would never give her to this man. That much she knew.

Raging, she stomped on his foot and shoved him with all her might. He barely moved though he did grow angry, his face becoming red as an overripe crabapple. "Don't you** DARE**! I make my own life decisions, **NOT** my father! Let me **GO**!" He grabbed for her, raking his fingers across her shoulder before jerking her arm. It hurt and he almost dislocated it.

"You will not get away so easily! I am an Arl and you are just one simple girl, not even in line to inherit anything. What use are you, save as a political pawn?" the Arl shouted darkly at her. He bullied her, twisting her slender arm behind her back and causing her great pain. She cried out. "If I have to carry you out, you will be **mine**!" he hissed. "Now, behave before this becomes more difficult than it needs to be." Her left arm was disabled but with her right, she withdrew a dangerous, curved dagger from a slit in her skirt. _'Political pawn?' _she raged. He was right, of course. It wasn't just the dance she wanted to flee; it was her life as well.

Everything became a blur at that point. She slashed the dagger at him in a move that may have cut him but certainly succeeded in rending his sleeve. She couldn't tell at first. The mild poison in the blade's edge would see to it the fool wouldn't heal very well if she had. He let her go with eyes wide. A thin line of red appeared on his forearm and her dagger gleamed dark and wet along its sharp edge. She flashed her teeth in a triumphant snarl. "I've cut you! Your throat is next if you come closer!"

Her head pounded and sweat poured from her skin. Her hair had come undone and swayed against her back. Those crazy, fiery locks clung to her tear-streaked face and gave her a look of madness, like a Chasined wilds witch. She thought she had the blade pointed at the fool's face. She thought she was going to pierce him with it. The Maker knew she wanted to. People surrounded her and tried to wrest the long dagger from her clammy fingers. **"Stay away from me!" **They tried placating her with soothing words and even one of the Templars reached out to her. She thought she recognized him but was too disoriented to care. She dodged their attempts to disarm her and soon grew desperate enough that she was ready to cause another injury.

She whirled and pointed it at them. She was a caged animal, desperate to be free

Then, someone she knew appeared before she did actually kill someone. Her brother was there, barking orders and he carefully removed the blade from her hand. He looked over her shoulder to someone behind her. In the fog of her fear and anger, she thought Fergus was telling the person to get her out of here. She felt hands on her shoulders and she threatened to hit the man. It hurt where he'd touched her. Then she saw it was her former dance partner. "Remember me? I mean you no harm. I am here to help you. Come on…" he murmured in soothing tones.

"Fade **take** you! I'm going **no** place with **no** man! Not even **you**!" she shouted. She spun about and tried to get away from the young templar. He had to run to keep up with her. "Lady-!" she heard him shout as she finally broke free of the crowd.

**The Determined Knight**

He was faster than her in spite of the useless, lightweight armor he wore. It sounded hollow, like a hollow suit of armor given the power to run and it gleamed unnaturally bright. The boy soon caught up to her in swift, long strides. "That lord ordered me to aid you and I will! I keep my promises. Let's go to the kitchen. It should be empty by now. I'll get you something to clear your head. Those people were brutal out there! Maybe we should take a walk… You are desperate for a distraction, my dear." His soft voice was having a calming effect on her, to her chagrin. She was still unwilling to do what he wanted but she decided she would no longer fight him. He was a Templar after all. _'He won't hurt me,'_ she reminded herself.

Though she slowed her pace, she shrugged out from under his gauntleted hand with a painful wince. _'Does not the idiot have eyes? I am injured!'_ she raged within. Her hair was an untamed mess of flames that exploded from around her tear-streaked face. The cosmetics she wore were ruined. She knew she must look awful… It reflected her mood, her pain and she made no attempt to tame it. The effect so contrasted with her earlier appearance that the boy frowned angrily. "What did they do to you? Your shoulder is bruised… My Lady, you need a salve. I have something that may help."

She growled at him as he tried to touch her again. "Stay **away** from me! Do not **touch** me!" He sighed and muttered under his breath, "I cannot help if you will not let me…"and he guided her to the kitchen then made her sit at a small table the servants used. Dinner long over, nobody remained in the spotless room. The fire was still hot, though and he put a pot of water on the hook for tea. It was dark but for the glowing coals. The Templar trainee uncorked a bottle and poured some of the contents into a ceramic stein. He then pulled off his helm and placed it on the table along with a mug of honey mead. He noted the way she favored her left arm as she sat, head bowed, and shoulders shaking. It worried him. She looked miserable and he doubted the appearance was just skin-deep. He took a towel from the stack by the wash-basin and wet it at the pump. He handed it to her as he slid into the seat across from her.

"Drink. I don't usually condone stronger drink for situations like these but it'll help calm your nerves. I hope anyway. If your nerves are anything like your hair, I'm in trouble." The look she gave him in the dark could have melted steel with its fierceness. Elissa scrubbed at her face with the towel and stopped crying after a while. She was still furious but at least she could think straight. She swallowed her drink and watched him from angry, heavy-lidded eyes as he rose to check the water. He grunted with satisfaction because it was just hot enough to steep the leaves. He was distracted finally and that was all she required to escape. On silent feet, she made her move.

Elissa bolted out the open door and left the young man holding a pot of hot water and mug of dry leaves. He blinked and snarled a curse. He dropped the pot and mug on the table and took off after her, his helm forgotten. A shimmer of gold ahead revealed her path and he followed. It should have been easy to catch her but she took every opportunity to throw him off the trail by darting down corridors that not even he recognized.

**Escape Artist**

Eventually, he was breathless and marveling at her stamina. They had been running for almost an hour. Also, they were hopelessly lost. He thought he knew the hall they were in but the memory belonged to a precocious five-year old and not the young man of seventeen he now was. "Lady… Stop… I beg you… I haven't the ability… to do this much longer!" he panted between long, quick breaths.

She whirled to face him some feet ahead of him, panting. "Then stop trying to follow! I care not a **whit** for your promises and only for **my** desire to get away from you. Don't you **get** it? I am tired of being ordered about and grabbed and groped and everything else they did. I am done with **all** of you! How dare men think that because a woman is pretty that she must belong to someone? Why can't she just belong to herself and loan herself out once in a while? Why must a man pretend he owns her? I am free to make my own choices! **Nobody owns me!**" Her defiance spoke of courage and bravery in the face of her recent battle. He could not blame her for it and part of him even understood. What saddened him most was that her innocence had been shattered by the night's brutal events.

The boy sighed. At least she was speaking to him. "My lady, I do not believe in any of that myself. I agree with you and… Wait… Someone **GROPED** you? Who? I'll bloody his face…!" He reached for a sword and shield he did not have and felt silly for the movement.

"**Who**? Who cares! It happened and not by one or two but many of them. I feel… Disgusting. I am sickened by it. The bastard called me a political pawn… I'm a person! Not some chess piece." She was sobbing uncontrollably now, her chest heaving as she sagged against the stone wall. The boy rushed to her side and foolishly tried to pull her into his arms. It was too much. She hit him. The armor clanged uselessly and he saw her wince in the dark. The shoulder was hurting her. He wanted to rub his little jar of salve into the injury if she would only let him. Her eyes narrowed and she bolted again.

After several more minutes of running through black, abandoned halls, she stopped. He heard her exclaim a frustrated curse in the dark ahead. _'Ahhh… She found the tree…'_ he thought ruefully.

"Don't bother!" he called out into the dark. "When I was a child, I couldn't get around that tree. It's been growing through this section of the castle for ages. Come on. Let's go back to the kitchen. I'll make you some tea." He strolled up to where she should be, smiling his triumph. _'Thank the maker for that tree. Wait… Where did she go?'_ All he found were her shoes. Had she discovered a way around? No… **UNDER**! A crawl space just under the loop of the tree where it broke through the floor tiles and punctured the stone wall revealed itself to him in a faint gleam of light from beyond. It was tight. He realized he could get through it but not with his armor on. The boy sighed and removed every piece save his boots.

Eventually, dressed in a pale, blue linen shirt, black breeches and his armored foot-wear, the young Templar squirmed through the hole and re-emerged on the other side. The ancient hall beyond was in much worse condition than the rest of the dilapidated corridors before the tree. Moonlight peeked through numerous gaps in the stone. He guessed they must be walking along a section under the battlements near the outer wall. That meant there must be a door somewhere that led outside. He hoped so since he could not see the woman or even hear her anymore. Then he smelled wisteria on the breeze that drifted down the hall…

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**The Secret Garden**

"My lady? Hello! Please do not hide from me any longer. This has gotten… tiring." The boy was frankly exhausted. He approached a gate leading out of the hall and into an outer courtyard, where he heard sobbing. "Oh, my poor lady…" he murmured as he turned a corner at an overgrown hedge. She was there, having thrown herself onto a stone bench. He walked up to her and all but threw himself down so that his face was on level with her own.

"Stay away. Just go away…" she whimpered between sobs. Elissa hated that he saw her like this. She was not some weak flower to wilt with a bit of rain. She really didn't mean her words and was only saying them because that was what she thought she wanted. But he seemed to know just what she needed. He was right.

"I'm going to hold you now, okay? Please don't hit me." He reached out to her, pulling her close, his cheek resting against her wild mane. She didn't hit him, didn't fight him. The scent of sweet wood, herbs and spice assailed his nostrils. It was a pleasing combination of scents and mingled with her fear and sweat, he felt the sudden need to protect her. So he did. Eventually, she even turned her body so that he could embrace more of her. He carefully avoided her tender shoulder, for which she was thankful. Her tears felt like a hot flood against his skin where they saturated the shirt. "Why are you being so kind after I treated you so horribly?" Elissa sobbed against him. She did not feel she deserved his kindness after she had been so cruel.

He touched her cheek with his fingertips and forced her eyes to meet his. He almost fell into the twin lagoons of blue-green that spilled over with tears. How lovely they were! He wiped away those tears with his thumbs. "You were hurt. You were angry. I will not hold it against you. I… Think I can understand."

She hugged him tightly and only then felt the fabric shirt he wore. His shoulders were strong and his arms held her in a protective circle of tight cords and knots of muscle she could feel through the linen. "You took off your armor!" she choked. A rumble of laughter escaped him as he nodded against her. "The cathedral I have borrowed the stuff from would not take kindly if I ruined it in a futile attempt to wiggle through a crawl space barely the width of my chest. So there the armor waits! Speaking of which… You banged up your shoulder in the fight with that bastard. I have a salve that may help. May I?" He pulled the jar from a pouch at his hip and showed it to her.

She smiled weakly and presented the injury to him with the barest hesitation. He opened the jar, scooped a bit of the strong-smelling stuff into his fingers and tentatively worked it into the muscle and bone under her soft skin. His young patient winced painfully but soon the magic potion did its work, easing away the pain; even removing the traces of the ugly bruise. As he worked, he noted the strength in her muscles, the power of her lean, lithe form. She had a youthful body built with the strength of a finesse fighter's and the grace of a dancer's. It was a challenge to keep his fingers on the injury and to not graze the swell of her firm breasts as they rose and fell just above her sparkling bodice. She stretched her neck, a low moan escaping her throat. The curve of her neck was inviting him and he felt like he was going to snap if he didn't quit. The young Templar trainee pulled his fingers away abruptly, his face almost the color of her hair.

"Ahem… Where are we, do you think? What do you make of this place?" he asked, tilting his head up to look around.

Curious about why he had ended the wonderful massage, and not just a bit disappointed by the abruptness, her eyes followed his gaze. Elissa sat up taller on the bench though she kept her hands on his shoulders and looked around. "It's a… garden perhaps? Maybe it's a lady's garden, by the look of the statues. It has a distinctly feminine feel to it. The bushes form some kind of hedge-maze, I think, and the trellises support vines of some kind. Most of them dead it seems. How sad. Roses, perhaps? And… wisteria?" She sniffed. Yes, Wisteria definitely grew here as well. Their eyes met again and the boy nodded.

"Agreed. I'll bet this place looked amazing in its heyday. I wonder how long ago that was. My… father… Is an important man in Redcliff and as a child I used to run the many abandoned halls and corridors of Castle Denerim when he had business with the king. I always got caught up at that overgrown tree. I never got around it. Guess I never tried to go THROUGH it."

"Wait… Your father? You never mentioned you were a noble."

'_Damn! Damn and damn again.'_ "I'm… Not. But he is. I was sort of adopted."

"But still, doesn't that make you nobility?" she pressed.

'_ARGH! Stop already!'_ "It's… Complicated. Don't make me tell you. Please."

"Oh. Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Look, do you want to walk the maze and see what we can of the garden? From what I can tell, I bet it's huge." He straightened and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation, rising gracefully to her feet.

"I look a mess, don't I?" she said apologetically, her hand tangling in her hair in a sweet act of vanity. He thought she looked cute.

"Oh, only like isomething a cat tried to shred and succeeded…"

She made a silent "O" with her lips and bumped him with her hip. They both laughed. He stopped her and smoothed the hair from her eyes and pushed it back from her face with both hands. The gesture was tender, endearing him to her all the more. He held her face, his long fingers stroking her cheeks absently as he tried to see her in dark. "How old are you?" she asked.

He smiled and walked with his arm around her shoulders. "Seventeen going on twelve, or so I am told. I like to do something expressly forbidden by the Chant of Light, apparently."

Elissa hugged him while they walked. "Oh? What's that?"

He smirked. "I like to have fun. Evil thing that it is. I am apparently doomed. I'm sort of the black sheep of the temple."

"Ah! You poor baby!" she chuckled. "But I thought that the Templar are not forbidden to join in Feastday dances?"

"Forbidden, no. But the Chantry doesn't think they have to forbid us. They think that our own moral compass will do the forbidding for us. My compass has apparently become faulty. The Revered Mother keeps trying to fix it but I'm a hard one to fix. It seems that everything they try fails. I wonder why?" He pulled her tightly against him as if to punctuate the statement. "And now there you are. A life of flagellation and self-inflicted isolation in the Maker's Name and His Glory is no longer so appealing to me, not like it ever really was. But now it's really unappealing. I think I like the idea of wooing a pretty girl, you know?"

Elissa giggled and escaped his embrace to cover her shyness. His words touched something within her deeply. She darted behind a fragrant tree and peered up at him from behind the smooth bark. "Can't you just leave? Forget about the whole Templar thing and live like a normal person?" _'Like I someday will, soon as I am old enough!'_

His eyes grew somber as he came at her from the other side of the tree. His hands pressed into the wood as he leaned against it. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Normal? I don't even know what normal is, having never lived it. Besides, I just… can't. The Templar hold onto their trainees because of the knowledge we've gained and they don't like their secrets getting out. And even if I could just simply leave, where would I go? What would I do? I am not a noble. I'm just a commoner."

"That's Silly! You are more noble, more understanding, more- EVERYTHING, than those preening peacocks on the floor tonight. But as for my being nobility, it's okay. I have a plan, you see. I plan on becoming a Gray Warden someday so if you left…"

"Whoa, whoa! A Gray Warden? You?"

She nodded and picked up her skirts, swirling them about as she playfully danced around the tree, avoiding his attempts to take her hand. "Uh huh! Why not? Some girls dream of being queen while I dream of just being useful. Funny, hm?"

He caught her and held her hands behind her back. With his cheek pressed against hers, he danced with her slowly under the light of the rising moon. "I like the idea but you can't just join the Wardens. The Warden Commander has to want you to join. He has to choose you one way or another. I've met Duncan. He's a good man and he's smart. You'd have to impress him indeed to be asked to join and then there's the problem of being needed. It's true there will always be Darkspawn to fight but…" He spun her about and dipped her low, grinning in the dark. He really did enjoy dancing.

She drew her face away to lock eyes with his. Their faces were so close, their noses almost touched. She was desperate to kiss him. "You sound like you've researched this… Wouldn't it be fantastic if we both were chosen?" He pulled her up and experimented with some more elaborate movements that would have shown off her dress had they been in public.

"Serendipitous to say the least, My Lady. But unlikely. I am good but not good enough to spark Duncan's interest. You might though. You're hard to catch!"

"Mmmm! But you can dance, that's for sure…" she said, smiling sweetly and he pulled her back into his arms for an unscripted dance that required no music and only the swaying of their young bodies under the moonlit sky.

They danced for a time in silence to the music of night-loving creatures. It was nice. The silence was not to last, however, as Elissa broke it with a question. "So, why are Templar trainees here at the Feastday ball? If they want to sequester you, it seems that being in the presence of the temptation of so many things would be a poor place to maintain dedicated piety."

"Ah! An excellent question, my dear. And you answered it yourself, by the way. This is part of our training. Can we resist such temptations? We are not forbidden, exactly, and those that do indulge are told to pray and engage in a bit of self-mutilation before they can return to regular training. But indulging is generally part of the fun of these events. We like to see who actually gets caught! On the flipside, we are here in numbers just in case a blood-mage or Malificarum makes an attempt on the large number of nobles here. One evil mage can cause huge amounts of damage. You get several and it takes a fair number of Templar to apprehend them. We are backup, well-trained and prepared to stop any rogue mages who may cause trouble for the gathered nobility.

"Does that answer your question, my dear?"

"Perfectly."

To be continued.

i 


	5. Chapter 5

**The First (Worst) Kiss Ever**

Sometime later, the boy said something that caused Elissa to squeal and dart away on bare feet. She sounded very happy and that made him very happy to have been the one to replace those tears with smiles. He raced after her and when she allowed him to catch up, she took his hand. For a long time, they explored the garden and talked about mundane things. She told him about her father's obscene collection of weapons, a virtual museum covering centuries and continents and the birds her mother kept as pets. He told her things about life growing up in the monastery with the sisters and all of his crazy stunts to piss them off. She found herself laughing hysterically with each telling.

It was charming the way he joked and fidgeted as he held her hand. This was like one of those outings where a young man escorts a lady to a romantic place to woo her and she liked the way he unintentionally succeeded. Elissa found herself heading into a crush situation without knowing where the "like" began and the crush took over. She had never been in love before so knowing the difference was impossible.

After a while, she held him loosely, her cheek against his chest. "Look up," he whispered. She followed his gaze and saw the moon high over head. It was huge and bright and it was almost directly above them. It was surrounded by clear, bright stars that glittered like crystals around a massive, glowing diamond. She exhaled with awe. "I can almost see your face! Well, what I can make of it through your hair… I like what I can see," he murmured. He fingered those red locks away from her eyes. They reflected the moon's light with such purity that they almost seemed to glow. If he had not been in more control of himself, he might have bent over to touch his lips to hers. It was excruciating not to.

Much of his face was still shrouded in shadow but Elissa could clearly make out what would someday be strong patrician features, which held a kind of softness that would be apparent when he smiled or laughed, both he did often. She touched her fingers to his skin, caressing the faint stubble of beard that threatened to roughen the softness she found. Because she could only clearly make out his eyes, she tried her best to catch them with her own. What color are they? Gold? Brown? Somewhere in between? Goldish-hazel, she decided. They must look spectacular in sunlight. That's how she wanted to see him. She wanted to see him in the light.

"You owe me a kiss, you know," she pouted.

"I- **Do**?" In the dark, the skin under Elissa's small hand grew warm.

"Uh huh. At the end of the Remigold, you were supposed to kiss me." Even warmer grew his skin. She smiled.

"I- **Did** kiss you!" he said, clearly embarrassed. His skin was now hot to the touch.

"Nu-uh. That was not a kiss. That was a peck."

He turned away from her and casually draped an arm around her shoulders as they walked. She was so tiny next to him! But she was feisty and doubtless she could be deadly. He liked the contradiction he saw there. "Let's see… I pressed my lips against your skin and even sucked a little. Last time I checked, **that**, my lady, is a kiss."

She bumped him hard with her hip, causing him to stagger a little. "It's not the same! At the end of the dance, you are supposed to give me a real kiss. On the lips. A full, passionate kiss. Not a little peck on the cheek."

"Ah… Well, that is… If you…" he stammered. He was probably crimson by now. She stopped him and drew herself up onto her tip-toes, her arms curled tightly around his neck and her face very close to his. His breath was hot and sweet against her face. She really wanted to kiss him.

"Tell me… Have you ever kissed a girl?" she teased.

He blinked at her and then smiled shyly. "Have you?" he shot back.

Elissa blushed. "A girl? I **AM** a girl! Oh! You mean…! Of **COURSE** not! Nor have I ever kissed a boy! Now answer the question." Now **she** was blushing crimson and felt flustered. He'd turned her question around on her without blinking and left her feeling as awkward as he was. She didn't like being in that position.

He looked away nervously as if seeking a place to retreat. He felt very vulnerable right now. After a long time, he drew a breath and spoke very carefully. "My… Heart is not something I've ever wanted to gamble with. I don't take these things lightly. I know that being a Templar will undoubtedly ruin me romantically since they are discouraged from having romances at all… So surely I want to experience it but… Forgive me if I sound like I am scared. Because I am. I like you and I think you would likely be very good for me but my future and yours are uncertain. We are both very young and so much could happen…"

She wanted to understand but the way he spoke, it sounded like he thought she was proposing and she found it a little foolish. She would have **none** of that and she would get her kiss! She balled her small fists and even shook one, finger raised like her mother did when she lectured her children. "Ser Knight! I am **not** asking for your hand in marriage! I am **asking** if you would like to** kiss me**! Nothing more. So, point taken, you have never kissed a girl. That's fine because it makes us even! Right now, before you become something you don't want to be for people you don't want to dwell among, why don't you take a moment for yourself and just be a boy who wants to kiss a girl, because I know you do!" she cried at him. She made such perfect sense and she was adorable doing it. He was having trouble resisting her. He blinked his eyes down at the young woman before him as if seeing her all over again for the first time. She was so tiny, so fragile in her long, shimmering gown of layered gold skirts and wild red hair. Yet she looked fierce as if ready to do battle. He doubted she could lose. He wasn't about to test her. His face split into a broad grin.

"Fine, fine. I hear you. But…"

He placed one hand on her shoulder and used the other to cup her chin, pulling her nearer. He lowered his face very close to hers. "I confess I want to… But…" Her arms were around his neck in an instant and her lips pressed against his. The first kiss was awkward and poorly connected as she struggled to imitate the romantic poetry and plays of the day. The attempt failed miserably and almost left them bruised for the effort. Their noses bumped painfully and they broke it off, laughing hysterically. "That was… Not what I expected. Surely we can do better?" he chuckled to her. Elissa nodded, hands cupping her mouth as she held back peals of laughter and started back for the bench where they started this night. She had an idea. Before they reached it, he watched her shiver.

"Was my kiss so bad, My Lady?" he grinned at her while they walked.

"It was bad but I am not shivering for that reason. I am feeling the night air. I wish I had brought my shawl…" He felt bad for her and without another thought, he untied his shirt at the collar. He slid it up over his body and pulled it off. "It's not much but here… Put this on." He held out the soft linen to her and he heard her breath catch. Her wide eyes locked onto his chest and stomach and threatened to stake a claim. The moonlight only served to intensify their brilliant hue.

"**Maker's breath** but… You… You're… **Oh my**!" Without his shirt, he was chiseled perfection. Lean, long of limb and at that awkward stage between teenager and man, he was nonetheless a female's fantasy figure come true. His muscles were well-formed, big without being bulky and he moved with an archer's grace. There wasn't even a trace of dark hair on his body, only soft blond where it could be seen at all. She sighed dreamily.

"Yoo-hoo! My dear lady, as flattered as I am at your bold appraisal of my torso, I would like you to accept the shirt before you **float** away." She continued to openly ogle him. It was overwhelming. He needed to break off the concentrated gaze before it aroused him and he was hardly dressed for hiding that! He found himself reluctantly enjoying the attention more than expected. He'd never been the subject of such intense scrutiny. He laughed and shoved the musky-scented shirt over her head and pulled it down around her, trapping her arms within. It worked. She no longer stared at him so hard. "Ah! Now you cannot cheat and touch my body in a clear affront to the Maker!"

She was giddy and struggled to slide her arms through the sleeves. He made it hard for her by pinching the fabric closed whenever she got close. This allowed him close brushes of his hands to parts her lovely figure that should have earned him at least three slaps. She laughed instead. The game ended abruptly when he wound his arms tightly about her and kissed her again but this time, it was a much better kiss. Long and light, a brushing exploration of mouths and a taste of sweet skin, it certainly held promise.

Without realizing it, he had lifted her off the ground and held her up so that she was tilting her head down to cover his moth with hers. Her arms swirled about his neck and he barely noticed her slight weight in his arms. He pulled her down onto the bench against him and cradled her to his body. There, they continued the kiss and added some creative explorations of lips and tongue to one another's face and neck. This was the real first kiss. This was what kissing should be like. This was poetry and song; romance and magic. This was what young girls dream of and what young boys practice in a mirror for. _'And the Chantry thinks this is evil? Are they mad?' _With practice, the two learned what they liked, what the other liked and teased one another mercilessly.

As the moon slipped closer toward the opposite horizon, the Knight held her against him, his kisses whispers on her lips. "You realize that you are defiling Chantry property…" he murmured against her mouth.

She parted her lips, inviting him in. He kissed her full on, tongues engaged in a sensual dance that was as poetic as it was passionate. "Hmmm… Naughty me! Guilty as charged. My sentence?" He smiled, lips brushing her cheek.

"Oh… I'll think of something. Lightning is overrated."


	6. Chapter 6

**First Love, Last Knight**

After a while, they simply lay on the bench, his back to the cold stone and her body pressed against his. She stroked his chest absently with her fingers and now and again, she would graze his pale skin with her lips. He caressed her bare shoulder with his fingers where it emerged from his large shirt. It was practically a dress on her. He liked it. His fingers lifted her chin so that he could trace the line of her throat with his lips. "Hmm. I could get into a lot of trouble for what we're doing now," he chuckled softly. "I'm actually enjoying myself right now!"

She tilted her long neck to take full advantage of the kiss he bestowed. He turned out to be a natural at pleasuring her. She sighed. "I'm glad. But I have a confession; I'm going to be very sorry when we part, Ser Knight. I just wish you could tell me who you are!" The Knight stopped kissing her neck and lowered his forehead to her bare shoulder. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her there. "What does love feel like? Can you fall in love after just a few hours of knowing someone? Is it because I'm young and becoming a woman or maybe I am just confused and this-"He covered her open mouth with his and drank her in deeply to quiet her.

When he was done kissing her, he nuzzled her with a tender smile and lightly caressed her face with his fingertips. "The answer is, 'I don't know, having never felt it', 'Yes, I am sure it's possible', 'Yes', 'yes' and 'yes.' Is it love? Frankly, I hope not. I'm not ready. As for who I am… who you are… I thought about that and I know I've made the right decision about this. Our lives are so far apart; so different and so vastly separate that it would kill us if we could communicate but just be happy with being friends. I can't see you agreeing to that but I would have no choice. My duty, my honor is important to me and love, sadly, isn't meant for one such as me. It's too selfish and I… cannot afford to be selfish. You cannot pin your hopes and dreams on a Templar, my dear. Aren't you the one who claimed I needed to just enjoy the moment and live for myself for once? Enjoy life before it ruins me? So why dwell on things we can't change?

"Forgive me my simplicity if I'll just cling to the moment and continue kissing you because I like it. Don't let us ruin it by over thinking it. That is usually my area of expertise and I am rather enjoying just being a boy who wants to kiss a girl. Got it?" she bobbed her head. She was crying softly and he felt terrible but there was nothing he could do. "Good… Now… Where were we? Oh right. I was just about to do… This…" his mouth enveloped hers again and she responded eagerly, if with a pang of sadness.

**Gifts of Remembrance**

When sleep came, it claimed them both and even the hard stone of the bench and damp dew upon their skin did not awaken them. He was on his back on the bench, at a slight angle with Elissa pressed along the length of him. They slept together entwined, her head against his chest and his heartbeat playing a soothing rhythm. They shared a deep, dreamless, effortless sleep that later, each would claim was the best sleep they'd had in days.

When the pale light of false dawn caressed the sky, Elissa awoke with a start. "Oh no! No no no! Ser knight! Wake up!"

He rubbed his eyes with one hand and held her against him with the other. Groggily, he said. "Huh, wha- We under attack?"

She slithered out of his embrace and tried to haul his uncooperative form to a seated position. "No, but we will be when my mother finds out we slept together. The fact that nothing happened…"

"…Nothing happened. Stop worrying." He rested his elbows on his knees and peered up at her as she fussed with her hair. "Stop that. You look fine. You're beautiful."

Elissa grimaced down at him. "You're biased. I bet I have dark circles…" He was on his feet and holding her hands away from her face and hair in a heartbeat. "Relax. Breathe. There you go. Kiss me. Good girl. Now, before we end this night, I have to do something." He reached up behind his neck and undid the clasp of the necklace he wore. It was made of braided black leather with a heavy silver locket dangling from it. The locket itself was a majestic piece of artistry. The image within, hidden away behind an ornate silver cover by a series of complicated latches that could accidently lock one another, was painted on slate and the silver molded around it. The cover was etched with intricate patterns and scroll-work. It was stunning.

He held it out to her, and before she could argue, he locked it around her neck. "Hmm. I wondered about that. It looks better on you than it did on me. I approve! It's yours. Think of it as something to remember me by."

She wept as she touched it. "It's incredible! But why?"

He held her against him with a sad smile. "This locket means the world to me. Someone very important gave it to me to remember him by and, well, he no longer comes to see me so I guess I am no longer so important to him. But because it represents a time when he still cared, it makes sense to me to give it to someone that I care about. I'm probably sounding silly, aren't I? But, anyway… It's yours now."

She cried and held her hands against his chest near her chin as she wept. Oh, how she hated goodbyes! Then, on her right hand, she spotted a glitter of gold and teal. Elissa slipped it off and shoved it onto the pinky finger of the boy's right hand. "What the…?" he exclaimed. "I can't take this! Are you serious?"

The young daughter of Highever's Teryn leaned against him. "The stone is the same hue as my eyes. Father gave it to me for that reason. All you know of me really is my hair and eyes and, well, the ring kind of represents them both. That's rose gold. I got it for my birthday two weeks ago. Please don't ever lose it. It's very important to me."

"And yet, you want to part with it to a boy you've just met. Are you sure about this?" he murmured softly.

"Right now I am. So… Are you ready to escort me to my rooms?"

He kissed her deeply, unexpectedly. "No! No, I am not!" She gasped as he crushed her to him. "Maker, I will miss you."

**Meeting Mother**

They retraced their steps, somehow finding the way back to the tree and his armor. It remained undisturbed where he left it. He put it on, cringing at the sensation of the metal against his bare chest. She still wore his shirt and he wasn't going to ask for it back. Like his locket and his heart, it was now hers.

Eventually, after a bit of searching, they found the kitchen again and the servants were busy preparing breakfast for those lingering through morning. "Ah, I left my helm here. Did anyone find it?" The head cook, a thin man with only frown lines crossing his face, scowled at him with open disdain. "No helm, Ser, but you left things out that needed washing…"

He started to apologize as Elissa took his hand and pulled him along. "Time, Ser, time! I have to hurry before mother and father awaken! Oh, I wish you would give me your name."

"No. I thought I explained that last night. I cannot have you counting on meeting me in the future and pinning your hopes on me. I'm not worth it in the grand scheme of things. You have important things to do in your life and I will be but a footnote someplace near the bottom."

She spun on him angrily, hands on her hips and looking for the entire world like an obstinate child in her daddy's over-large shirt and mommy's favorite skirt. He tried not to smile. "**A FOOTNOTE**?" she shrieked as he laughingly tried to shush her. The girl had spirit, for sure! "You have made a dream out of a nightmare with a few kind words and the kisses girls can only dream of. You have no idea what kind of an impact you have made on me this night, **SER**. And-and- I think I love you, so **THERE**! Not worth it… You... You are an impossible, stubborn, intractable fool. Come on. My quarters are up this passage." She turned around, hurrying down the hall so that he couldn't see her weeping yet again. _'Damn him! Damn him! Footnote indeed…'_

Beaming, he took her hand and followed her closely. By now, they were in a well-lit area of the castle. He itched for his helm. The boy was tempted to snag one from a suit of armor standing along the wall but the helms were riveted to the suit and not possible for filching. Oh well. If she sees his face, so be it. His plan had been to maintain their anonymity but sooner or later, he supposed it must end. Then, a blessing waited up ahead in the very direction they were going. It was mercifully dark. "Hmm! Who killed the torches?"

"My brother's wife is heavy with child and light disturbs her sleep. We put out the torches at night for her sake. We are here," she whispered. "Mine is the room to the right. I must say good-bye… Correctly… You understand?"

He drew near and lowered his eyes to hers. "Maybe. So… you think you love me, hm?"

"Well, I have a very serious case of 'like' mixed with 'want' and 'need' and a bunch of other words. Whatever I feel, it makes me not want to give you up so easily. Is this a bad thing?" Oh, how vulnerable she looked to him. And he liked the amulet gleaming against her chest. He liked her very much indeed and his experiences amounted to something less than hers. He didn't know how to answer.

"No. It's not a bad thing at all. I'm flattered. Very much so. But you will never be farther away than my thoughts, my dear."

"I like that. Thank you…" She wrapped her arms around him and he tilted his head forward to give her one last kiss goodbye. It was an incredible, long kiss filled with the inexperienced passion of youth and first love, mingled with the very real knowledge that they may never have this moment again. They both wept, salt tears mingling with sweet skin as they prepared to say their farewells.

It was that moment her mother, Teyrna Eleanor Cousland opened the door to catch them locked in the embrace. "Andraste's Ashes, girl! What is going on here?"

"What? Mother!" the young woman whirled, looking and feeling extremely guilty. "Uh… We… He… Uh… Um… It's just, uh…" The young knight touched his fingers to Elissa's lips. "Allow me…"

He looked down at the slight woman who looked so much like her daughter it was jarring and smiled. He bowed deeply before her then took her hand. "Forgive my obvious affection for your daughter, Milady, but we managed to get along quite well during our visit to parts unknown within the castle. Dare I say we were lost! I can assure you that the Lady's virtue has not been harmed and though we have kissed a time or two, it is only our unbridled youth that made it happen. She has been in good hands."

"You're the Templar trainee my son sent to look after my baby, yes?" the woman asked softly.

"The very same. We had a fine time, once I soothed her frazzled nerves. I confess we fell asleep for a while but it was necessary. She needed to be away and I rather enjoyed the break. We've become friends. So, you won't hit me, will you?" He kissed the woman's hand as he flashed his most charming smile.

The Teyrna looked at her daughter, who was smiling with the tormented eyes of a girl seeing her first love preparing to depart forever. "I… No. I won't hit you. You've made her happy for a while, though I fear I may have to put off grandchildren from her until she meets someone just like you or **you** cease being a Templar. Spoiled her good, it seems. Anyway, go ahead and kiss her again. I know you plan to. And you, young lady, I want a full report when you get in here."

"But Mother! I was going to sleep in my own rooms! I-I'm tired."

"And you will! After I get my report. Templar or no, he's still a boy and I know what young people do when they get all warm and fuzzy about each other."

The wife of Highever's Teryn went back into her room and closed the door. The young knight leaned over Elissa as she pressed her back against the wall. He leaned in close. "I have Mother's permission…" he leered down at her.

"Hm! Two-edged sword, that permission. Dangerous to the core. She'll make you THINK you have permission but you just know that…" He interrupted her with a lingering kiss. "You talk too much…" he murmured between kisses. Eventually, their lips parted and so did they. He went back to the monastery and his lessons and she went back to Highever. They never bothered to try to contact each other though they probably could have.

Four years after receiving the ornate locket, Elissa made a concerted effort to figure out the locking mechanism. And though it took her months, she finally did open it. "Huh? A bearded man? Who is it? It… looks familiar… Arl Eamon? But… Why would he give this to me..?" Even long after it ceased to mean anything to her, she never bothered to remove it from her neck and even wore it in blade practice. There was no real reason to take it off.

She often thought of her first love, for love it was she later learned. But time has a way with causing the most intense emotions and even the strongest memories to fade. She cut her hair short and watched it grow darker as she grew taller by several inches. There were other boys and later men to kiss and opponents to defeat. She moved on and Elissa Cousland honed her skills and one day drew the interest of the great Gray Warden, Duncan. She eventually stopped thinking about the boy she would never see again… Or would she?

To be continued.


	7. Chapter 7

**Reunion**

Three years later, she lays in the embrace of a new boy, a man to whom she has just given herself for the first time and marvels at his understanding of the locket and his lack of understanding her. "Remarkable, isn't? Have you figured it out?" Alistair asked softly.

"The locket? It's Arl Eamon, isn't it? A very young Arl Eamon? Mother thought so," she sniffled through quiet sobs. She tried to tilt her head up to see Alistair's face but was only granted a remarkable view of his nasal passages. She was on her back, her head cradled by the embrace of his broad shoulder and his arm holding her against his naked body. Was he acting smug? Here she was, tears pouring from her eyes and he was acting smug.

"No! Us, silly! Haven't you guessed already?" He squeezed her tightly under the blankets.

"Guessed what? Are you teasing me again? Because if you are…"

He sighed and encouraged her to lie on top of his chest so that he could see her face. "Inside the locket, My Love, is a painting of a man with a beard. It **is** Arl Eamon as a young man and the man who raised me, before I got shipped off to the temple. Now do you understand what I am telling you?"

Her eyes widened. Tears poured from them and rained upon his chest in what threatened to become a deluge. He held her face in his hands and kissed her gently. "Maker's breath, Elissa! They'll think we're fighting if you keep crying like this. I don't want Sten's sword up my arse for abusing you!

Yes. It's me. It was me all along. Crazy, huh? You got your wish! Everything you predicted happened, more or less. And we, you and I, have** lived** the Remigold, not just danced it."

She perched on her elbows as they rested upon his chest. She gripped his shoulders tightly while he lovingly caressed her arms with his fingers. "You knew? How long have you known this?"

His amber-brown gaze was gentle and warmed her soul though she wanted to be angry at him for not saying anything. "Well, it's hard to say exactly when I knew but I had my suspicions as far back as the moment I first laid eyes on you."

"And yet you said nothing…!" she snapped at him.

"No. I had to be sure. I had to see the locket. You… have changed a lot. I had a better view of you than you had of me and though I did not know your name or history, I saw you clearly at times. But again, I wasn't completely sure. Oh, I guess we could have discussed it but I rather enjoyed falling for you all over again." Alistair's eyes brimmed with happy tears. He reached up and took a handful of her dark red hair and pulled her lips to his. "Yes… I confess I may have fallen in love with you that crazy night. I'm glad it happened again…"

When the kiss was done, she nuzzled his neck and kissed his throat while she spoke. "Do you… Still have my ring?" She felt him nod. "Mmmhmm. My fingers are a bit thick for it these days but it resides on a gold chain I bought for it. I've been avoiding wearing it for fear of tipping you off too soon. Then again, I may have been protecting myself."

She snorted and gazed into his eyes. "Always have to lead, hmm? Don't you remember that the Remigold has a part where the woman leads?"

"Uh huh. Wait… Uh oh…"

"Defiling Chantry property is the least of what I have planned for you…"

He sighed dramatically. "Defile away. I shall somehow endure the abuse. Somehow."

"Did you ever locate your borrowed helm?" she asked suddenly, eyebrow raised.

"My… Helm. Right. The commander had it and I was asked about it. Oddly enough, he was only angry about the misplaced helm and not my hours-long escapade with an unattached lady of the court. As far as the Remi was concerned, he never found out who did it, none that he wished to prove anyway. He knew it was me, though. He told me I drag my feet sometimes. As if he could do better!"

As he sat up, he pulled her against him and they sat together in the faint light of the moon and the central fire. "I am… VERY happy to know that my mind wasn't playing tricks on me when I dreamed of him thinking it was you or the other way around," Elissa murmured thoughtfully. " I had been having a few troubling dreams like that and I was waking up feeling guilty. Especially the night I was cold and you slept beside me to keep me warm. I thought I was sleeping with him! But he's you…" She exhaled softly. "I am so furious that you kept your suspicions to yourself." He didn't think she sounded very angry. She was very calm, in fact! Sixteen-year old Elissa would have hit him.

"I did a pretty good job of it, hmm? Heh heh. You had no idea until tonight. I didn't plan tonight, though. That just sort of happened but what I said, everything I told you, I must have practiced a dozen times so that I wouldn't sound like an idiot. Being in love with you is the greatest feeling in the world and making love to you is better than I ever dreamed. I… Like that in spite of being a virgin too, you knew what you were doing. You REALLY knew what you were doing. Ahem. Wow."

She blushed. "I… wasn't as chaste as mother would have wanted. Maybe YOU were raised in a monastery but I sure wasn't. I guess the only thing I didn't do was, well, take it all the way. I'm glad I saved it though. That's a bit like your first kiss. It's a gift."

"Our first kiss wasn't so great," he snorted.

"No… But our second kiss was amazing. Remember how you lifted me up? I liked being taller than you. If only we'd been naked…!" she giggled at the risqué thought and leaned against his chest. The way she was looking up at him gave him gooseflesh.

Inspiration struck as he flashed her his favorite rakish grin. "The tent's a bit short for standing in but there's the area out by the stream where we bathe. Nobody ever goes there. Would you like to…?

"…You mean standing up?" she felt her blood quicken in her veins at the thought of what he was suggesting.

He tossed a shirt at her and he pulled on some light sleeping pants from his pack. "You never know… We might hate it but I'm willing to try anything now… now that you're a part of me." She started to don the shirt but dropped it at the look of vulnerability she saw in his eyes. His body wasn't just naked but his soul was too. It touched her deeply to how much he trusted her as he trusted no one else. It was jarring but pleasant. Elissa was against him a second later, her mouth on his and her arms around his neck.

"Part of a whole, don't you think? We do work well together," Elissa told him as she reached for the human equivalent of a Golem control rod. He gasped, his face contorting. Even through the fabric, he could feel her fingers tightening. "Only my duty as a Gray Warden shall come first but I will never betray your trust, Alistair. I swear it."

"And now what do we do?" he asked as he watched her pull the shirt over head. It was huge on her and pleasantly It reminded him of an earlier, more innocent time.

"Hmm… I believe I should have the right to take the lead anytime I desire and apparently, all I have to do is this," she squeezed him tightly again, a subtle reminder that the night was not yet over, "…and you suddenly become very obedient! Let's go do that new position. I'm dying to see what you can make of it."

"I've created a monster! I'm doomed…!" he laughed.

"We BOTH are…!"

"Yay for us!" he squeaked.

End.


End file.
